Recalling the pain of elderly father’s tragic death

MY WORLD began to fall apart when my elderly father fell on his way to the bathroom early one morning. He somehow knocked his head, causing blood and liquid to ooze out from his nose.

When I got the news, I rushed from Kajang to my parents’ house in KL in 35 minutes. I took him to the nearest private hospital. At the ER, the doctor told us there was no neurologist there and advised us to go to another private hospital nearby.

We arrived at the second private hospital in 15 minutes. We met a doctor at the ER, only to be told it was too early for the neurologist who would only be in later in the morning. “Better go to a public hospital,” we were told.

With much difficulty this time, my father was carefully moved into the car. Halfway to the public hospital, he said he was very dizzy, in much pain, and wanted to vomit.

By the time we got into the public hospital’s emergency area, my father could barely talk. The night doctor said, “Oh, bleeding nose.”

It was about 3am, and a long wait was in store for us. In the ER, other young doctors busied them- selves with patients who were mobile, bypassing my poor elderly father who was in pain.

The three of us waited in the really cold ER until nearly 6am. By then, I was under a lot of stress. Worse, I was made to sign a “No Resus” letter.

Many times, I pleaded to any doctor there for help, perhaps to conduct an MRI, to see what was wrong. They gave excuses like the machine had broken down or there were too many patients.

After much pleading, a doctor finally agreed to get the MRI done. That was about 9.30am. When we arrived, there was no patient there except my father. The MRI showed he had fractured his skull.

He was finally warded at about 10pm. From then on, only oxygen was given to get the air bubbles out. For the next 10 days, his recovery was a miracle; he could eat normal food, laugh, wave at the patients opposite his bed, and etc.

Then one night, just before we could take him home, he sneezed, and that was it. The fracture that was beginning to heal opened up again. He vomited and fluid came out of his nose again. A minor surgery was recommended. I told my father about it, and he understood, although he couldn’t open his eyes. He survived the surgery.

He was in ICU for one day, and was later moved to the High Dependency Ward (HDW).

It was at the HDW that our hearts would break began. For the first few days, he was on the drip. Later, milk was fed through a feeding tube. He looked all right but as the days went by, he was losing a lot of weight.

His mouth was very dry and he had ulcers all over it. His tongue was like sandpaper, and he had a little laceration at the back of his tongue. He had a lot of phlegm, and so many times, tubes were shoved into his throat to get the phlegm out.

At times, tears just fell from his eyes. His neighbour had a bad cough, and that infected my poor father. His right hand became swollen, so there was no drip for him. The nurses didn’t give him any medication for the pain, nor enough milk and water.

A dietician told me he should have been fed eight times a day, but I never saw any nurse feeding him via the tube for the entire 10 days he was there.

On the 11th day after the surgery, he had difficulty breathing. I assumed it was the phlegm. I also noticed there was a bottle of phlegm next to him that no one had disposed of.

In desperation, I pleaded with the doctor there for help to remove the phlegm. A nurse with a face like a mask finally came in a huff. She angrily drew the curtains close. Then, instead of the familiar sound of phlegm being sucked out, my sister and I heard our poor father moaning.

When the nurse had finished, we thanked her and went to check on him. At first, we thought he felt better when he opened his eyes, really slowly. But it was to be for the last time. The doctor said it was Hospital Infected Pneumonia.

Life has not been the same since then. The nightmare of losing my father in such a cruel way is indescribable. And the fear of ending up in any hospital’s HDW is paralysing, especially if one is a warga emas and entitled to free hospitalisation. DISTRAUGHT AND TRAUMATISED Kajang